Monday, June 12, 2017

Hello lovelies! It gives me
great pleasure today to host Norman Green and his new book, “The Last Gig”! For other stops on his Goddess Fish
Promotions Book Tour, please click on the banner above or any of the images in
this post.

Be sure to make it to the end
of this post to enter to win a digital copy of the featured book!! There will be THREE lucky winners!!! Also, come back daily to interact with Norman
and to increase your chances of winning!

Thanks for stopping by! Wishing you lots of luck in this fabulous
giveaway!

The Last Gig

by Norman Green

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GENRE: Mystery (Detective)

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BLURB:

A
teenage runaway from the Brownsville projects, Alessandra Martillo lived with
an indifferent aunt who had taken her in when her mother killed herself, and
later, after more than a year on the streets, a caring uncle found her, took
her in, and showed her she had a chance. That was many years ago, and now
Alessandra’s all grown up, working for a sleazy P.I., repossessing cars, and
trolling for waitstaff on the take. The cases aren’t glamorous, or interesting,
but the work pays the bills. And she’s good at it---if there’s one thing she’s
learned since leaving the streets, it’s how to take care of herself around
life’s shadier elements.

When
an Irish mobster named Daniel “Mickey” Caughlan thinks someone on the inside of
his shipping operation is trying to set him up for a fall, it’s Al he wants on
the job. She’s to find the traitor and report back. But just a little digging
shows it’s more complicated than a simple turncoat inside the family; Al’s
barely started on the case when she runs into a few tough guys trying to warn
her away. Fools. As if a little confrontation wouldn’t make her even more
determined.

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EXCERPT TWO:

Marty
Stiles, elbows on the table, watched the dancer at the other end of the stage.
She didn’t look half bad, at least not from that distance. Be careful, he
thought. You’ve had too much to drink to night to be able to think regular . .
. He didn’t look at Daniel Caughlan, the man sitting next to him. “I’d love to
do it for you,” he said. “Problem is, Al is the best man I got. I put her full
time on this, I gotta hire another broad for the office, then I gotta find
another guy to do what Al does out in the field. You know what I’m sayin’? So it
ain’t like I just gotta replace the one guy. An’ I don’t know where I would get
somebody else like her. This business takes a special kinda person. Al has a
real feel for it.” He finally glanced in Caughlan’s direction. Fucking guy,
Marty thought, he’s watching me like a cat watching a parakeet.

“I’ll
make it worth your trouble,” Caughlan said.

Marty
Stiles shivered. He had known Daniel “Mickey” Caughlan for years. Stiles had
been a rookie cop when he’d first run across the guy. Caughlan had been one of
the few to survive the immolation of the Irish gangs that had once haunted the
neighborhood of Hell’s Kitchen on Manhattan’s west side. He had been just
another body back then, just another face. Perhaps smarter and without question
luckier than his betters, he had survived, left alone at the reins of something
called Pennsylvania Transfer Corporation when his silent partners all wound up
dead or serving long prison sentences. The last of them, Patrick Donleavy, had
disappeared without a trace. Donleavy had been Caughlan’s friend and patron,
but Rudolph Giuliani, then a prominent DA making his bones on the backs of the
mobsters in New York City, had been hard on Donleavy’s trail, and if Donleavy
had fallen, Caughlan would have been next. After Donleavy’s disappearance, the
hounds had snapped at Caughlan’s heels for the next six months or so, but the

trail
was cold, and eventually they wandered off to seek other amusements. Stiles had
no direct evidence of what may have happened to Donleavy, but he knew what his
gut told him. What he did know for a fact was that in the years since,
Caughlan, using the ruthless tactics taught to him by Donleavy and his
compatriots, had built Pennsylvania Transfer into a major interstate shipping
firm.

Caughlan
stared back at him, his face blank. “Look,” he said, “I got a situation and I
gotta do something about it, Marty, but I can’t have you stomping around in my
life with those big feet of yours. No offense, but you got the finesse of a
hippopotamus with a bad case of hemorrhoids. I’ve heard about your girl
Alessandra, and she’s the one I want. Don’t worry, you’ll be working this, too.
There are some elements to this that are gonna require your special talents.
You got the contacts and you got the moves. And there might be some serious
money in it.”

Stiles
could hardly hear him over the noise of the music and the shouted conversations
going on around them. That’s why he picked this place, Marty thought, his
stomach turning over. The FBI could have a bug stuck right up Caughlan’s ass,
but they still couldn’t hear a word, not over the roar in this place. What ever
Caughlan wants done, it can’t be anything good. He thought for a second or two,
wondering how bad he wanted Mickey Caughlan’s money.

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GUEST POST:

10 Things You Didn't Know About Me

I
never studied writing (or anything else, really).

Most
of the inspiration for my stories comes from the inner city, outer boroughs of
NYC.

Everyone
has a story, and most people will open up when they find out you’re a novelist.

I am
insatiably curious. Nosy, actually.

I’m
pretty driven. If you want to write, you have to be on fire with it.

There’s
plenty of violence in my stories, but in person I’d much rather hear your story
than fight with you.

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This contest is sponsored
by a third party. Fabulous and Brunette is a registered host of Goddess Fish
Promotions. Prizes are given away by the
sponsors and not Fabulous and Brunette. The featured author and Goddess Fish
Promotions are solely responsible for the giveaway prize.